


Revolution

by blakefancier



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-26
Updated: 2011-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revolution's a tough business. So is love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revolution

Part 1.

Avon pressed his palms to the glass of the life-stasis capsule and held them there until the cold burned his skin, then mercifully numbed it. The capsule looked like a coffin, a metal and glass coffin. Certainly Blake's eyes were closed as if he were dead; his curls were limp against the white of the cushions and he was pale except for the scar that slashed over one eye. Avon traced the scar over the glass, then covered it with his fingers.

Avalon had promised the best medical care when they got Blake to her base.

"Avon." Tarrant put a hand on his shoulder. "We have to go now."

He shrugged the hand away and stepped back to watch the rebels load Blake onto Avalon's ship.

"The others are waiting." Waiting on a borrowed ship, on borrowed time.

Once they were free of the planet they would have to run. He knew that Avalon's doctor would not be able to resuscitate Blake, and once they found out... But who would tell? Not his crew, and Blake was the only other who knew.

"What are you planning, Avon?"

"Nothing." Only their--his future.

"He'll never make it, and without him the whole rebellion will collapse." Tarrant sounded hesitant, as if he were afraid to speak.

"Shut up, Tarrant." He took a deep breath to steady himself. Ah, it shouldn't hurt, hadn't he thought the same thing? "We're following them."

Following Blake... the irony.

They went back to the ship and waited quietly. The only sounds were that of the ship's computers. It wasn't until take-off that the arguments began. It seemed that Soolin wasn't particularly pleased about joining Avalon.

"We have a ship and supplies, I say we find a bolt-hole." She was fingering the gun at her side, caressing it, then gripping it almost convulsively. It was a familiar habit these days; Dayna's death had hurt her badly.

"We owe Avalon," Tarrant said, which surprised Avon. He wondered if Tarrant felt guilty about what happened.

"And when she finds out who killed Blake?" she replied.

"Blake isn't dead yet."

"Oh, grow up, Tarrant. He'll never survive those wounds."

Vila laughed quietly. "You don't know Blake."

"Even if he does survive, he won't want us around."

"He won't blame you, me, or Tarrant. He may not trust us, but he won't blame us for his injuries," Vila said.

"What about Avon? Do you hate him that much?"

"Soolin," Tarrant said sharply.

Avon looked up from the computer screen. They were staring at him, almost as if they expected him to speak. He didn't, instead he stared back, silently.

Vila smiled but there was no joy in it. There was a spark of something in his eyes, hate or anger or sadism. Avon didn't recognize it. "Doesn't matter if I hate Avon or if I don't. Avon'll go, he's got to."

"Why?" Soolin asked. "Why does he have to go?"

"Because it has to be finished, one way or another."

"They'll kill him."

"Only if Blake dies." Vila's gaze never wavered. "And if he dies, well, it won't matter anymore, will it, Avon?"

He looked away.

 

Part 2.

Days blurred into nights blurred into days. Avon could not believe that it had been only three weeks since Gauda Prime. It felt like an eternity was passing while he worked non-stop. But everything and everyone was holding together, would hold together: he'd make sure of that. Avalon enjoyed his round-the-clock work schedule, though now even Vila was looking at him with concern.

It didn't matter.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to will away the gritty burn of exhaustion. If he could just close his eyes without dreaming...

He spent most nights behind a computer terminal, trying to find ways into Federation databanks or updating Avalon's security system. Except for tonight. Tonight he would spend staring at a circuit board until the colored wires blurred together. Blake's heart had stopped. It had taken the whole of the medical staff's expertise to get it started again. The image burned in his mind and he knew that he would never forget how they shocked, drugged and finally, blessedly, willed his heart to beat.

"You should sleep."

He turned quickly, hand moving to his side until he remembered that he didn't carry a weapon anymore. "Should I?"

Soolin leaned against the doorjamb, face impassive. "You're running on auxiliary power. You can't afford to make any more mistakes."

"I don't plan on making any mistakes."

"You didn't plan to shoot Blake either."

He clenched his hands into fists. "If you came here to remind me of that, you shouldn't have bothered." He turned back to the circuits, tracing the wires with a probe.

"Avon. He's going to die and then you're going to die."

"I'm too valuable to the rebellion to kill."

"Are you sure? Do you really want to take that chance? We could make a fortune selling our skills."

Avon gripped the probe in sudden anger, the pain making it easier to fight back the desire to wrap his hands around her neck. "Get the hell out of here."

She was quiet for a few moments, then she gasped. "My god, Vila's right. You are--"

He closed his eyes and said softly, "Vila's an idiot."

"No, he's not."

Avon sighed, exhausted. "No, he's not."

Then he felt her arm wrap around his waist.

"Get some rest."

"I don't need your pity."

"You don't know what you need." She pressed her lips to the back of his neck.

For a moment he thought about letting her, about turning and kissing her...fucking her. Then he felt coldness spread from his chest to his extremities. "Maybe I will go to bed...alone."

Soolin stepped back and in a hard voice said, "Then, good night."

When she had left, Avon realized that he was still gripping the probe in a tight fist. He opened his hand and watched the blood well up from where the metal had cut his skin. He wrapped his hand with a clean rag and decided to head to Medical for antiseptic.

The doctors and med techs quickly learned to leave him alone when he entered the medical quarters, so the room was blessedly free of inane chatter. The only sound was the rhythmic beeping of machines and the rasping of Blake's breath. The doctors had done all they could but Blake only had a twenty-five percent chance of survival.

Avon ran his fingers up and down Blake's arm, every once in a while stroking wrist, palm, or knuckles. He did not speak. Sometimes Tarrant, or more rarely Vila, would sit with him, offering a word or two. Soolin was the only one who never came; maybe she understood better than the others.

But he was alone now, lacing their fingers together, then unlacing them to trace the lines of Blake's palm. Here was the line signifying life, here the one signifying love. Where had he learned that? Ah yes, Anna.

Twenty-five percent.

Blake had beaten worse odds.

He stood up and brushed the hair from Blake's forehead. "I'll be back in the morning."

*****

"You wanted to see me, Avon?" Avalon sat behind a large desk, hands folded in front of her, looking up at him, fresh-faced and innocent. On Gauda Prime he had seen her put a blaster shot through a woman's forehead for betrayal.

"Yes." He sat across from her. "You know I am the one who shot Blake."

She inclined her head.

"And yet, here I am, still free."

"He may still survive. Besides, I need you, Avon; the rebellion needs you. Blake will need you."

Avon looked down at his hands.

"And one figurehead is as good as another."

He jerked his head upward and stared at her.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd prefer Blake. You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar. But you're mysterious enough to catch the imagination of the masses."

He smiled, feeling cold fury in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm fighting a war."

"And I'm a vital resource." He hadn't meant to sound so bitter.

Avalon shrugged. "I don't have time to worry about your feelings. If that's all, I have work to do. And so do you."

*****

Avon's eyes were open wide in the darkness, the sound of his gasping and the beat of his heart loud in his ears. Another dream, another...nightmare. He closed his eyes and curled into a fetal position as the images flashed before him: Blake, naked, sliding into bed with him, drawing him close. And kisses, soft and gentle, pressed to his mouth as Blake's hands moved lazily over his body. Then opening him with warm, slick fingers until Blake was everywhere, in him, around him. Blake moving against him until he almost orgasmed. Then  
nothing...just Blake gone, just waking up aching and hard and empty.

He reached down and grabbed his cock, squeezing until some of the tension left his body. God, he didn't know which dreams were worse, the ones where he relived Gauda Prime or these. He rolled onto his stomach, clenching the pillow in his hands. Why must his sleep be interrupted by nightmares? Why did Blake have to haunt him? Why...

Avon heaved a sigh, almost a sob. Almost, except that he wouldn't let it become one. Then he rolled out of bed and dressed.

A med tech was standing over Blake, reading a chart and making notations. He had seen her before; she spent an inordinate amount of time in Medical. Idriana, the name suddenly came to him, her name was Idriana.

When she finally noticed he was there, she looked up and gave him a tired smile. "I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd check up on him."

He nodded, clasped his hands behind his back, and looked down at Blake. He looked no better than yesterday; there were dark smudges under his eyes and his lips were dry.

"He'll be all right." She reached out and touched Blake's arm. "I never met him before, not face to face. But I feel like I know him. My parents were rebels. They told me stories about him. I always thought he was untouchable."

"He's just a man." A man who had been mind-wiped, drugged, controlled like a puppet. Hardly untouchable.

"He's Roj Blake. I hope the bastard who shot him suffered."

"He is," he said softly. And then more loudly, "I'm sure he did."

"But what am I thinking? You know. You were with Blake for two years." There was an awed look on her face. Dear god, he hadn't realized how young she was. Was Avalon recruiting children now?

He wanted to tell her to go home, take the suppressants, and be a good Federation citizen. He wanted to tell her that life wasn't fair and striving to make it so was foolish. He wanted to scream and throw things. But most of all he wanted to crawl in beside Blake and lie there, ignoring well-meaning med techs, pragmatic revolutionaries, and overly-concerned shipmates.

"Well, I'll let you get on with your visit."

He nodded and took his customary seat. Blake's hand was cold and clammy in his.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep. He must have, since hours later he awoke to the strange sensation of his fingers being tickled. He opened his eyes to Blake's clear gaze, then looked down at his hand. Blake's fingers were wiggling against his almost playfully. When he looked up again, Blake smiled.

He opened his mouth to speak, to yell at Blake for his stupidity, to beg for forgiveness, but he could not get any words past the dryness of his throat.

Blake sighed and licked his lips. He tried to speak, but all that emanated from his mouth was a pained croak.

Avon filled a cup of water from the nightstand and helped Blake take a small sip.

Blake tried again, this time more successfully. "Avon...stupid bastard...it's all right."

He closed his eyes at the sudden prick of tears and pressed his lips together.

Blake grabbed his fingers and tugged.

Avon was pulled, lunged, or fell forward, (he didn't quite know himself) and pressed his face into the sheets at Blake's side. Blake ran his fingers through his hair and down his face and he had to fight the urge to nuzzle. He wanted to curl up against Blake, and he almost did before realizing that Blake was in no condition for anything more than soft, finger caresses.

He lifted his head slightly. "I have work to do."

"No." Blake tapped Avon's nose, then closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Avon pressed a kiss to Blake's palm and after a few minutes he got up and went back to his room. Once there, he sat in the darkness, looking at his hands and trying to stop them from shaking.

*****

He didn't go back for several days. When he did, Blake was awake, eyes moving about the room restlessly. "There you are. I thought I was going to have to get up and find you. I have some questions."

And here it came.

"Orac?"

He looked at the far wall. "Gone."

"The Liberator?"

"Destroyed."

"Cally?"

"Dead."

Blake cleared his throat. "You?"

Avon opened his mouth to tell him it was none of his business. And as always, "Here."

 

Part 3.

Blake refused to stay in bed once he was well enough to stand without assistance. It came as no surprise that he had taken to roaming the halls at strange hours of the day, or so Avon had heard. There were several breaks in the communication system and he had been up for three days trying to find the problem. He had been over the circuits and programming several times, but to no avail.

Avon sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Maybe you need some rest?"

He stilled, and with his heart hammering in his chest, slowly turned.

Blake was leaning up against the wall, pale and trembling. He held an arm over his abdomen in a protective gesture.

"It would seem that I'm not the only one."

Blake smiled and straightened. "I've had enough rest."

"You're bored, you mean."

"Perhaps. What's your excuse?"

He stared at Blake for a moment before turning back to the circuits. His hands were surprisingly steady. "I don't know what you mean."

There was a shuffling and then he felt Blake's hand on his shoulder. He ignored it.

"Vila says you've been working non-stop since you got here," Blake said.

"Vila should learn to mind his own business. Besides, what should I be doing? This communications grid needs to be up by the end of the week."

"Yes, so I heard." Blake shook him by the shoulder. "But Avalon has her own communications experts. They can do this just as well as you can. You need rest."

"I'm not tired. If you remember, I spent quite a few sleepless nights working on projects for you when on the Liberator."

Blake placed his other hand on Avon's back and began to massage him. He closed his eyes and resisted the urge to lean back.

"Vila's been telling me stories," Blake whispered into his ear.

He tensed and opened his eyes. "About?"

"A stardrive, an antidote to a drug, and a warlord alliance, among other things."

Avon looked over his shoulder. Blake was smiling.

*****

"You're going with Avalon to see Moran." Avon was sitting at his workbench, electro-conductor in one hand, probe in another. "Hand me the simulator. No, the square mechanism with the grey buttons."

"Yes, she feels it will show a united front." Blake shrugged and passed him the device.

"You realize that she's using you." He passed it over the conductor--no, that wasn't quite right.

"I know."

He looked up. "But you don't care. Doesn't it bother you that she's using your reputation to strengthen her own?"

"I'll let her, for now. It's mutually beneficial; it'll help dispel those nasty rumors that I was shot and killed by a friend." Blake smiled. "I wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea about you."

"It's nice to know you're looking out for my welfare."

"Well, I know your worth, don't I?"

*****

"Your injuries. Perhaps we should wait until you--" Then Avon's mouth was full of Blake.

Then he was full of Blake.

The next morning he watched as Blake pulled on his boots and buttoned up his shirt.

Blake sat on the bed and ran his fingers through Avon's hair. "We should be back in a few days. Try to get some sleep, and maybe get a few meals in you."

He sat up and let Blake kiss his mouth. "Don't get yourself killed."

Blake snorted. "If you couldn't do it, who could? Don't worry."

He stared at the far wall. "I'm not."

When Blake left, he settled back and tried to sleep.

*****

Avon stood outside the strategy room and listened to an argument between Blake and Avalon. They were so loud that one could hear them from the other end of the corridor.

"The weapons base on Omnicron Three is an acceptable target." Blake's voice grew louder with each word and with it, Avon's grip on the doorknob tightened.

"There are civilians who work on that base. I am not a terrorist."

"Neither am I." Blake's voice went soft. "Which is why I suggested hitting it off-shift."

Avon opened the door a fraction, just enough to get a clear view of the two standing face to face. Avalon was touching Blake's arm in an effort to calm him.

"Blake--"

"No." Blake pulled away and put a hand on his stomach. "You know exactly what we are. Don't pretend that you haven't ever used expediency to get the job done."

"And what expedient actions have you taken lately? One of my people saw you coming out of Avon's bedroom an hour before we left for Moran's base."

"Leave Avon out of this."

"It's difficult to, don't you think, with all that's happened." She looked at the hand he had laid over his stomach.

His hand curled to clench his shirt. "That's between me and Avon."

"Don't be an idiot. To use your own words; you know exactly what we are. You don't have a private life anymore."

Avon shut the door and after a moment, knocked.

*****

Blake's arms were wrapped around his body, his hands splayed across his back. He kissed Avon's throat, licking and sucking the skin. Avon was fighting not to squirm, not to make deep, quiet sounds of pleasure. He was failing.

He tangled his fingers in Blake's hair and pushed until Blake's mouth moved lower. Teeth caught a nipple and a tongue worked the tip. He moaned and wrapped a leg around Blake's thigh pushing his groin against the warmth of Blake's body.

Blake slid his hands down Avon's back and cupped his arse. Then he penetrated Avon with a single, callused digit.

He gasped and tightened around the finger.

"Blake," he said. "Blake, I--"

Blake's lips covered his, sucking the words from his mouth, breathing in his gasps and moans and the cry he let out when he came.

Afterward, he pressed his face to Blake's throat, breathing heavily. He could feel Blake's erection against his belly and he made a move to touch it.

"No." Blake grabbed his wrist. "How long were you listening?"

"What?"

"At the door. I heard it click shut. How long were you out there?"

He closed his eyes and thought about denying it. "Not long."

Blake pulled away slightly and ran a thumb over Avon's cheek. "Why didn't you tell Avalon about what you had: the stardrive, the antidote--all of it?"

"She didn't ask."

"Why didn't *you* tell *me*?"

He took Blake's cock in his hand and whispered, "I was waiting for you to ask."

*****

Avon made a few more adjustments to the schematics Avalon asked him to look over, before tossing them on his desk in exasperation. Her engineers were idiots.

He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. He'd need more coffee before tackling those plans again, a lot of coffee.

"Avon. Are you busy?"

He looked up at Tarrant, who was standing at his doorway.

"What is it, Tarrant?"

Tarrant shrugged, then walked over and perched himself on Avon's desk. "What's Blake planning?"

He scowled and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "If you're going to have a conversation with me, sit down properly. What do you mean, what's Blake planning?"

"He's been spending a lot of time around Vila, Soolin, and me. He's been asking questions, almost as if he's evaluating us."

"Perhaps he is evaluating you."

"Avon."

"I don't know what Blake is planning. I don't even know that he *is* planning anything." Of course, with Blake...

"But you suspect."

"It wouldn't surprise me. Why don't you ask him and stop bothering me?" He picked up the schematics and pretended to study them.

"We have, but he just smiles and shakes his head."

"And you thought he'd tell me?"

"You are sleeping with him."

Avon took a deep breath and remembered what Avalon had said to Blake: You don't have a private life anymore. Evidently, neither did he. "He'll tell us when he's ready."

"Will he? Do you think he'll take us with him?"

Did he imagine it, or was there desperation in Tarrant's voice?

"I don't know."

"But--"

"I said, I don't know. Now leave it, Tarrant." He put down the papers and stared at him.

For a moment, Tarrant looked as if he were going to say something, but then he only nodded. "I'm sorry to bother you."

He waited another five minutes and went to look for Blake.

Avon found him in the recreation room, surrounded by a group of young rebels, children, most of them. He was talking to them with a serious expression on his face and they, in turn, were staring at Blake with rapt adoration. If Blake asked them to cut off their right hands, they would probably fall over themselves to be the first to comply. But then, there were few people who could refuse Blake if he asked something of them.

Some of the children were nodding, others smiling. Avon could only hear snatches of Blake's speech: freedom for everyone, hope, strength, and fear. The usual rhetoric. Blake's eyes moved to capture each of their gazes, holding it for a moment before moving on. Sometimes he would reach out to touch a shoulder, a cheek, an arm.

He had seen it before; very soon now their adoration would turn to something like love.

Suddenly Blake's eyes lifted and caught his, and then Blake smiled. He felt himself start to smile in response and scowled. If Avalon were smart, she would send Blake away before he took over the base.

He walked over, stood just outside the group, and waited until Blake paused.

"We need to talk."

Blake said slowly, "All right. Excuse me, everyone."

"Not here. Let's go to my room."

"Fine."

Blake seemed to take his cue and was quiet until they were safely in the room. "What's this about, Avon?"

"The others think you're planning something." He picked up the circuit board he had left on the bed that morning.

"The others?" Blake sat down and looked up at him.

"Tarrant, Vila, and Soolin. Are you?"

"I've been in contact with Deva. And I'll be leaving soon."

"Avalon is going to let you go?"

He laughed. "She doesn't have much of a choice. I'm not a prisoner. Besides, it was a mutual decision."

"I see." Avon turned his back to Blake. "You haven't asked me."

"Asked you? Asked you what?"

"Asked me about what I can offer you."

"No, I don't suppose I have."

Avon clenched his hands and turned. "Well, are you?"

"No." Blake was rubbing his scars and Avon wanted to grab his hand and stop the gesture.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want anything from you." Blake shrugged and looked away.

He gasped. Bastard! If he thought-- bastard! "You don't want anything? Well, that's good, because all I have is nothing! The antidote and the plans for the stardrive were stored in Orac. I destroyed it on Gauda Prime so the Federation would not get it. As for the alliance, it ended before it had even begun. All I have are bits and pieces of nothing. All--"

"Avon, stop." Blake stood up, grabbed him, and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. "Just stop. That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

Blake sighed and pulled him close. "I lied," he whispered. "I do have something to ask you. Come with me."

"That's not a question."

Blake laughed and the embrace became tighter. "Will you come with me?"

"I tried to kill you." Avon laid his cheek on Blake's shoulder.

"Yes."

"I could try again."

"No, you couldn't."

The smug bastard.

"So will you come with me, Avon?"

He shrugged away Blake's arms. "What about the others?"

"They can come if they'd like. They're a good crew. So, will you?" Blake grinned.

"When would we leave?"

"Avalon says she can transport us in a few weeks. Or, we could take a ship." His grin grew larger.

"Steal?" He raised an eyebrow.

"What's a little larceny between friends?"

"Your morals have certainly become more dubious."

"Are you complaining?" Blake began to unbutton Avon's shirt.

"No, but I have better idea. We could trade her a ship for the stardrive plans." He pushed himself into Blake's hands.

"And you worry about my morals?"

"I never had morals. While you, Fearless Leader, were always the honorable type."

Blake nipped his bottom lip. "We'll give her the real plans when you figure them out."

"Mm, if you want." He began to work on undoing Blake's belt.

"I do." Blake brushed his fingers across Avon's cheek and into his hair. Then he pressed his lips to Avon's. "Do you?"

Avon smiled and whispered a yes against Blake's mouth.


End file.
